The Ballad of the Dead
by TheOtherHalfBloodPrince
Summary: What if you had the power to find dead bodies and the people who killed them? What would you do with it? Violet Ambrose has this power, and when Maria Robinson is murdered, Violet gets dangerously close to a dark secret, and it may just silence her forever... Rated T for language, violence, and mild gore.
1. Chapter 1

The Voices of the Dead

My name is Violet Ambrose, and I am not normal. I never have been, and I never will be. My life can sometimes be a living hell. I find dead bodies. Well, not just any dead bodies I can only find the ones who have been murdered, and I can also find the killers. I guess my life isn't all bad. I have a boyfriend, Jay, and ever since I have been working at the center, I have made some pretty good friends. The center is a place where people like me solve murders and actually get paid for being weird.

There's Krystal, a very interesting seventeen year old. She is the kind of person who is never afraid to speak her mind. In fact, she never has an unspoken thought. It can be kind of obnoxious, but she is fun to be around. Every week, her short, layered hair and matching lipstick are a different color. Necklaces strung with crystals hang around her neck. She's pretty savvy, but drives an old, bulky van that looks like something a rock band would drive. Krystal also talks to the dead. That's right, she talks to ghosts. The spirits mostly communicate through the realm of her subconscious as she sleeps.

Then, there's Sam. His dusty blond hair frames his tin face, and when combined with his light hazel eyes, they make him look much older than eighteen although he towers over most adults. He is amiable, but sometimes he is too cocky for his own good. At his school, he is popular. His phone buzzes with a text message so often that it has become background noise to our everyday routine. Sam's ability is your garden variety psychometry; which means when he touches an object, he is able to view the past of the person who owns it.

Gemma is fifteen. She is the youngest of our group. She is a palm reader. She is also emphatic. Whatever someone is feeling, Gemma feels it too. Also Gemma is the most narcissistic human being I've had the misfortune to encounter. She is constantly bitching about something. Everyone says that she's really nice. And, at first glance, her auburn hair, dark eyes, and fair skin don't insinuate anything out of the ordinary. She hates me. She says she avoids me because my proximity to death drives her away. I haven't been offered any other explanation, so I'll stick with that.

The last member of the team is Rafe. To be honest, I don't know much about him. Nobody does. The little information I have collected is he is sixteen, he has a complete disregard for rules, and he is an outcast. When Rafe speaks, which is seldom, his voice is overflowing with the I-know-something-you-don't tone. His tattered jeans and t-shirt hand loosely on his thin frame. Deep blue eyes full of emotion are the prominent feature on his pale face. His black hair is disheveled and sticks out at odd angles. Rafe refuses to let anyone get to know him. The closer you get, the further he recedes into his private world. His ability, like Sam, is psychometry, but instead of just seeing the past, Rafe can delve into the future of whoever owns the object.

Ever since Sara was fired, we have no one to lead our group. The bureau cut her off. They didn't like her unorthodox methods. We haven't been coming to the center. This morning we all received messages from an unknown number to meet at the center. I am apprehensive of the rest of the day. I pull on jeans and a blue shirt and apply some foundation and eyeliner that accentuates my emerald eyes.

The center is a rundown building that looks like the structure will topple over with the wind. I flash my ID to the scanner and walk in. The center looks like an office building. Tables with new computers line the wall. A few offices are scattered about the building. The walls are pale blue, every single one of them.

Krystal is sipping a Mountain Dew on the navy couch by the break room. Gemma stands against the wall with her arms crossed and an I-don't-want-to-be-here expression on her face. Sam is staring at his phone. Rafe is standing alone in the corner. Footsteps echo throughout the corridor. We all hear them. Our new boss must be here.


	2. Chapter 2

**SROLL ALL THE WAY DOWN TO FIND CHAPTER TWO**

Chapter One: I am Different

My name is Violet Ambrose, and I am not normal. I never have been, and I never will be. My life can sometimes be a living hell. I find dead bodies. Well, not just any dead bodies I can only find the ones who have been murdered, and I can also find the killers. I guess my life isn't all bad. I have a boyfriend, Jay, and ever since I have been working at the center, I have made some pretty good friends. The center is a place where people like me solve murders and actually get paid for being weird.

There's Krystal, a very interesting seventeen year old. She is the kind of person who is never afraid to speak her mind. In fact, she never has an unspoken thought. It can be kind of obnoxious, but she is fun to be around. Every week, her short, layered hair and matching lipstick are a different color. Necklaces strung with crystals hang around her neck. She's pretty savvy, but drives an old, bulky van that looks like it drove straight out of 1985. Krystal also talks to the dead. That's right, she talks to ghosts. The spirits mostly communicate through the realm of her subconscious as she sleeps.

Then, there's Sam. His dusty blond hair frames his tin face, and when combined with his light hazel eyes, they make him look much older than eighteen although he towers over most adults. He is amiable, but sometimes he is too cocky for his own good. At his school, he is popular. His phone buzzes with a text message so often that it has become background noise to our everyday routine. Sam's ability is your garden variety psychometry; which means when he touches an object, he is able to view the past of the person who owns it.

Gemma is fifteen. She is the youngest of our group. She is a palm reader. She is also emphatic. Whatever someone is feeling, Gemma feels it too. Also Gemma is the most narcissistic human being I've had the misfortune to encounter. She is constantly complaining about something. Everyone says that she's really nice. And, at first glance, her auburn hair, dark eyes, and fair skin don't insinuate anything out of the ordinary. She hates me. She says she avoids me because my proximity to death drives her away. I haven't been offered any other explanation, so I'll stick with that.

The last member of the team is Rafe. To be honest, I don't know much about him. Nobody does. The little information I have collected is he is sixteen, he has a complete disregard for rules, and he is an outcast. When Rafe speaks, which is seldom, his voice is overflowing with the I-know-something-you-don't tone. His tattered jeans and t-shirt hand loosely on his thin frame. Deep blue eyes full of emotion are the prominent feature on his pale face. His black hair is disheveled and sticks out at odd angles. Rafe refuses to let anyone get to know him. The closer you get, the further he recedes into his private world. His ability, like Sam, is psychometry, but instead of just seeing the past, Rafe can delve into the future of whoever owns the object.

Ever since Sara was fired, we have no one to lead our group. The bureau cut her off. They didn't like her unorthodox methods. We haven't been coming to the center. This morning we all received messages from an unknown number to meet at the center. I am apprehensive of the rest of the day. I pull on jeans and a blue shirt and apply some foundation and eyeliner that accentuates my emerald eyes.

The center is a rundown building that looks like the structure will topple over with the wind. I flash my ID to the scanner and walk in. The center looks like an office building. Tables with new computers line the wall. A few offices are scattered about the building. The walls are pale blue, every single one of them.

Krystal is sipping a Mountain Dew on the navy couch by the break room. Gemma stands against the wall with her arms crossed and an I-don't-want-to-be-here expression on her face. Sam is staring at his phone. Rafe is standing alone in the corner. Footsteps echo throughout the corridor. We all hear them. Our new boss must be here.

Chapter Two: The Woman in the Walls

The door is flung open, and in walk two people. Everyone's undivided attention is directed at them. They dress in formal clothes, like they are attending an important meeting.

The man is above average height for his age, which I'm guessing is forty, give or take a few years. His short brown hair has a touch of grey at his temples. He has an athletic build. He takes long, confident strides across the room.

The woman follows at his heels as they take in the room. Her fiery red hair is cropped just below her ears. They absorb the scene in front of them. The look on their faces is laced with bewilderment. I don't know what they were told about us, but I'm pretty sure the part about us all being teenagers was left out.

"Let me see if I got this right. Violet, Gemma, Sam, Krystal, Rafe," the man points his finger at us as he recites each of our names as if he rehearsed them several times in order to get them right.

"And you are..." Rafe pipes up from the back.

"I'm special agent Fox Mulder, and this is special agent Dana Scully," Mulder retorts as his dark eyes dart around the room. Both of them hold out their badges, clearly under the assumption that we wouldn't believe them otherwise.

I feel like I should introduce myself, but they already know my name. And I bet they know much more about us than they are letting on.

Mulder lays an assortment of objects on the table in front of him that once were in plastic bags labeled "Evidence". The two agents step back, expecting us to perform for them.

While the objects are meaningless to me, for the others, they can be the difference that separates the fragile line between life and death. The team passes each object around the table and hold it in their hands.

My ability offers no help here. I can only find bodies or killers when in close proximity to them. I hate this part. I feel so useless. I trudge over and sink into the couch, letting myself be absorbed in its soft fabric.

The others are gathered around the table, trying to piece together any information they can collect from the items as they are passed around. Mulder and Scully are watching them attentively. Scully holds a notepad, writing down every move they make. Mulder notices my absence and ambles over to me.

"Why aren't you over there with everyone else?" Mulder asks, seeming genuinely curious. He never meets my eyes. He just keeps his head straight forward, refusing to look at me.

"Because I don't have what they have," I leave him with my deliberately vague response. He obviously knows, to some extent, what we can do.

"Then, what do you have?" he pries. Mulder still won't look at me. I still haven't decided if he can be trusted. I remain silent, unwilling to spill my deepest secret to a complete stranger. He probably knows almost everything about me, whereas I only know his name.

"You can trust me, Violet; we're on the same side," Mulder seems to struggle to say those words. Despite the fact that every part of me is telling me otherwise, I trust him.

I've never told anyone outside my family about my ability, with the exception of Jay, Sara, and the team. I start slow, wondering how he will react.

"When someone is murdered, I can find the bodies... and the killer."

"That sounds useful, especially the last part," Mulder tells me, then he promptly walks away without another word. He seems interested. Most people, I figure, would be repulsed.

Sara never told me anything like that. She didn't make a habit of praising anyone. Sometimes, I would feel a little unappreciated.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rafe slip a small, shiny object into the front pocket of his red hoodie.

After the information is collected, we know the victim is a young woman named Maria Robinson. She was in her twenties, and her body hasn't been found. This excites me. I yearn to prove myself to our new bosses.

As we leave, Rafe pulls me aside. He dangles a small, silver key in front of my face. A devious smile creeps onto his lips. His expression shows that a trip is in out future.

"You're crazy if you think I'm breaking into a dead girl's house!" my voice drops to a whisper as we make our way to the parking lot.

"Not breaking and entering, just visiting," Rafe corrects me. Krystal has more than enthusiastically accepted her invitation, sporting a huge grin on her blue lips. She quickens her pace to keep up with us.

"C'mon, V, it'll be quick," Rafe pleads. I'm not sure what to say. Every fiber of my being is screaming no, but there is one part of me that is the slightest bit curious.

"Alright," I concede, giving them a long, drawn out sigh.

"I'll drive," Krystal offers, obviously pleased with my answer.

"I value my life too much to go anywhere in that metal death trap," Rafe straddles his motorcycle.

I really wish I had driven myself to the center instead of getting a ride from Jay. I climb into the passenger side of Krystal's van. The inside is just as decrepit as the outside. Papers and old fast food wrappers litter the floor. A dream catcher dangles from the mirror.

I buckle the seat belt, not like it would be much help. The worn leather seats are patched with duct tape. I bounce around after we hit even the slightest bump. The fifteen minute ride feels like hours. I eagerly race out of the car.

I find myself in a prestigious neighborhood. Exquisite houses line the street. Ornate gardens surround the perimeter of each lavish home. All of them are uniformly white garnished with black shutters, and they are all at least two stories.

We stand in front of a three story Victorian style house in the middle of the street. Whoever Maria Robinson was, she came from money.

"This is so exciting," Krystal practically runs to the front door.

"Be quiet, or people'll get suspicious," Rafe silences her excited voice with a harsh whisper.

The door clicks open, and we walk in. Nothing seems odd or out of place to me. The burgundy walls are accented with paintings and family photos. Images of a man and two little boys peek out from the wall. The man has tattoos running up his arms and a crew cut that has been dyed blue.

The children are nearly identical. Their blond hair sticks out at odd angles. Broad smiles are prominent on their joyful faces. Who could tear apart a family that seems so happy?

Soft, soothing music floats around me from somewhere above me. It sounds like a little girls music box. Well, it would, if the song inside was one of darkness and malice. I slowly ascend the staircase. The melody grows louder and louder. I hang on the very sound of each note. I am helpless to its call.

Even if i want to, I can't pull away from the voices of the dead. Their enigmatic ballads draw me in.

I grasp the brass doorknob in front of me. My heart pounds within the wall of my chest. The knob does not turn. The door remains firmly closed and locked. Rafe and Krystal are standing behind me, looking confused and curious. It is obvious that they can't hear the song.

"The door is locked," I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Is she in there?" Krystal runs her hand through her vibrant, pink hair.

"Someone is," I wish I could know for sure if it is Maria or not.

"Anyone have a bobby pin?" Rafe looks at us, holding his hand out. I pull two out of my hair and place them in his hand.

Rafe bends them and thrusts them into the keyhole. He intently focuses on his task, his eyes never leaving the doorknob. His hands turn and reposition the pins in the lock. A few minutes later, we hear a soft click. Rafe turns the knob, but the door still won't open.

"There must be a lock on the inside," Rafe sighs, and he lets the pins clatter to the floor. Why would you put a lock on the inside of a room?

"Well, I guess we can't get in," disappointment lines Krystal's features.

"I said it was _locked_," Rafe smiles. "I never said we can't get in."

Rafe motions for us to step back. He kicks the door, and the frame splinters. The door swings open, revealing a small room. We all stand in stunned silence for a few moments before going in.

My imagination plays out a thousand different ways that her body could be found. The music is strongest here. It blocks out nearly every other sound. To my dismay, the room is empty. It looks like a closet. Paint buckets, nails, and various other tools line the shelves

One wall is bare. I notice the hasty paint job is a slightly brighter shad of white than the rest of the room. This house keeps getting creepier and creepier. I know there is a body here; I just _know_ it.

I grab a sledgehammer off of the shelf.

"What are you doing?!" Krystal yells. Both her and Rafe look bewildered and scared.

I raise it over my head. I don't know why. This isn't like me. I swing it as hard as I can. _Boom_. Pieces of drywall rain down upon the floor. I swing it a few more times. With each hit, more and more of the inside of the wall becomes visible. Something catches my eye. A hand.

My job is done. I see her. Her face is contorted in a silent scream. Her head hangs limply to the side. I can see a deep red smile slit acrss her throat. Dried blood is caked on her clothes and skin.

"Is that her?" I whisper to Rafe. He takes a step in and looks at her tortured face. He nods his head, his eyes turning grave.

"I think we've been here long enough, don't you?" Rafe quickly exits the room. Krystal and I nod in agreement as we follow him. Rafe pulls out his phone and dials.

"Agent Mulder, I think we foun Maria. She's in her house," Rafe says. The call ends shortly after.

"He said we have to stay here," Rafe informs us. I know I'm not psychic, but I see trouble in our future.

**Hi everyone. Thanks so much for reading my story. So far, not many people have read it, so every view I get helps. Now that school is finally out, I will be posting more often. If you like this story, you should check out my other two. They are _Playing With Fire _and _The Bottom of the Well_. Write a review or PM me with your comments and/or suggestions!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: I Know Where to Look

"What the hell were you guys thinking!" Mulder lectures as he paces across the room, running his hand through his short hair. Scully stands behind him. She doesn't seem as mad, but her glare warns us to keep our mouths shut.

"We did find Maria," Krystal interrupts. "That's gotta count for something, right?" I shift uneasily in my seat, hoping her comment won't cause any yelling.

"The point is you went off without telling anyone, and not to mention, you stole evidence!" Scully barks at us.

"Technically borrowed, not stolen," Krystal crosses her arms. Mulder snatches the key from Rafe's hand. We are angrily dismissed. All of us are rushing out the door when Scully pulls me aside.

"Was it you who found her?" Scully calmly asks, her voice returnig to its usual tone.

"Yes," I won't meet her eyes. I stare at the ground.

"How?" She asks, prying for every detail. I don't want to nor do I know how to explain it to her. Plus, I'm not sure I want to relive it.

"I just knew where to look," I respond, probably raising more questions than it answers, as I speed out the door. When I walk outside, I notice that Krystal has already left. Rafe sits on his motorcycle, holding a a helmet out to me. He smiles as he notices my discomfort.

"No way. I'd rather walk," I push the helmet away, glaring at him.

"Just get on, V, it's getting dark," Rafe tosses the helmet into my arms. I sigh as I climb on behind him. The engine roars in my ears. The world around me flashes my in streaks, making me wonder how anyone could drive at all. I breathe a sigh of relief when we pull up to my house.

"Thanks," I hand Rafe the helmet. He waves as he zooms off. I see Jay waiting for me, leaning against the side of my house.

"Hey," I walk over to him. Jay wraps me in his arms and kisses me.

"Why did _he _drive you home?" Jay tries to sound innocent, but I can hear the accusation.

"Because I didn't feel like walking twenty miles," I defend myself.

"You could have called me," Jay pulls me closer.

"He was just being nice, Jay," I step away from him. "Goodnight, I'll see you later."

I collapse into my soft bed when I get inside. I need to think, but exhaustion is taking over. The click of the front door tells me that my parents are home. They have both been working late to make some extra money.

"Violet, can you come here?" my mom's voice drifts up to my room. I groan as I trudge down and sit on the couch.

"What?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. My mother's eyes are full of concern, and I know that I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear.

"Honey, I don't think you should keep working on this team," she places her hand on my knee. "No one should have to go through that."

"Mom, I am not quitting," I argue, suddenly feeling wide awake.

"Sweetie just hear me out-" my mom tries to calm me down.

"No, I am not quitting, and that is my final answer," I storm up to my room. Working with the team is the only time when I feel like I can help people. I don't feel like a freak, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Take it a Day at a Time

"I can't do this anymore, Sara," Agent Mulder begs. "I won't." The metal surface of the table is cool under his fingertips. He watches the reflections in the one-way glass of the interrogation room.

"Why the sudden change of heart, Mulder? When I first told you about them, you were more than eager to accept my proposition," the cold words slither out of Sara Priest's mouth. She circles around the table. Her blond hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, drawing attention to her face. She leans over Mulder, sneering. He sinks back as far as he can into the chair.

"I can't trick these kids anymore," Mulder pleads. He wants so desperately to get out of the deal he foolishly agreed to. He doesn't even know what this deal is. Sara made him promise that he would do her a favor, something that involves running this team. The money was too much to refuse.

"Kids are gullible. Why not take advantage of that?" Sara snarls, her powerful eyes taking hold of him. Mulder feels so inferior, so powerless.

"Because these are _not_ normal kids," Mulder chokes, the words catching in his throat. Sara's expression changes to amusement with a flicker of annoyance in her bright blue eyes.

"I told you what they could do," Sara laughs, but only slightly.

"Did you really expect me to believe you. I mean, that is pretty farfetched, even for you," Mulder turns away, unable to face the intensity of her harsh gaze.

"There's no backing out now," Sara returns to her vindictive tone.

"Tell me what this job is," Mulder commands, finding his usual control. Sara is caught off guard by his sudden bout of confidence. Sara sits in stunned silence, unable to think of a reasonable response.

"I said tell me!" Mulder bangs his fist on the table, taking full control. Sara winces at the noise.

"Bring me Violet," Sara finds her commanding voice. "She's too close."

**Thanks for reading! Sorry this chapter is so short. I am currently writing three stories, so if you want this one updated soon, write a review or PM me.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: An Honest Man in a World of Lies

The police station is smaller than I would have thought. It is nestles in its own street corner, surrounded by trees. I walk in the door where I am greeted by the rest of the team.

Mulder is sitting in a chair nearby. He doesn't acknowledge anyone. I can tell that he is deep in thought. Scully Walk the team into a dark room. She looks stressed.

On the other side of the one-way glass, six people stand in a line, each of them holding a number. None of them look like they want to be here. The imprints radiating off of each of them all fuse together and overwhelm me. I can't tell one from the next.

"I need you to tell me if one of these people killed Maria," Scully's soothing voice breaks the barrier of all the imprints surrounding me. I try to concentrate on the memory of the music. If one of them killed Maria, then I would hear the same music. It is not there.

"None of them did it," I take a deep breath and step away from the glass, freeing myself from the powerful imprints. Scully sighs and motions for the rest of the team to take a look. They find nothing. One man, however, catches my eye. It doesn't seem that he has any imprints.

"I wanna talk to number four," I point at him. I can't help but feel that I know him from somewhere.

"Okay," Scully sighs. "It can't hurt." She leads me to an interrogation room. Scully begins to enter the room alongside me.

"No, I go alone," I insist. Scully doesn't argue. Her light blue eyes lock with mine. There is something in those eyes. It tells me that she knows something. I fear that it concerns me.

"Oh, thank God. I didn't think anyone would come," the man handcuffed to the table lets out a shaky laugh, a laugh that makes him sound deranged. The steady, nervous tap of his foot on the tile floor echoes throughout the room. Tattoos overrun most of his body. A sliver ring is pierced in his nose.

"Do they think I did it? Do they think I killed Maria? Tell me the truth," he puts his head in his hands. I think he might actually sob.

"I don't know," I say as gently and as reassuringly as possible. I sit at the table across from him. I was right. This man has no imprints. The clatter of chains rings out with every move he makes.

"How did you know Maria?" I ask, wondering why I even came in here.

"I loved her. We have two little boys," he shows me a picture. It is the children from the picture in Maria's house. Suddenly, I recognize the man before me. He is the man in the pictures that I saw in Maria's house.

"Please, you have to help me. I didn't do anything," he pleads. For some reason, I believe him.

"What is your name?" I ask quickly because I see Scully signaling for me to hurry up.

"James. James Nua," he scribbles it, along with an address, on a piece of paper I have given him. "This is the prison they're keeping me in. Come tonight, please," James begs, his eyes meeting mine.

"Okay," I fold the paper and tuck it into my pocket.

"What did he say?" Scully asks me the moment I step outside the room.

"Nothing useful," I try my best to look disappointed. I can tell she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't say anything else. All I'm thinking about is how I will ever be able to sneak out to talk to James tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Fooled Me Twice With Your Lies

Tears of rage and despair roll down my cheeks. I hate him. How could he do this to me? He said he loved me. He didn't mean it. Maybe he once did, but not now. And I am an idiot for ever believing him.

I wish I could disappear. I can never see him again. We were together for two years, two whole years of my life, wasted. Jay still has no idea that I found out. He should be here any minute.

Jay is cheating on me. I found out today. Jay was in some restaurant with another girl. I saw them on my way home from the police station. They were holding hands across the table. Then, he kissed her.

When their lips met, I saw the same spark, the same undying love, that we had. But what disturbs me most of all, is the identity of the girl. Gemma. I couldn't take it. I could feel the rage bubbling up inside me. I wanted to storm in and chew him out right then and there, but I didn't. I hear Jay knock on the door. Here we go. I wipe away the tears and let him in.

"What's wrong?" Jay asks, clearly concerned.

"I saw you today," I fight the tears

"Where?" he asks, a little more cautiously.

"So what's her name?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"It's nothing, really," he nonchalantly shrugs. How could he say it's _nothing_.

"Really?" I scoff, "because it sure as hell didn't look like nothing."

"I can explain," Jay is clearly shaken. I dare to meet his eyes. He looks sorry, but only sorry because he got caught.

"I don't want to hear it!" I yell, succumbing to my anger.

"But-" he pleads.

"Just go," the words almost catch in my throat. Jay hangs his head as he trudges out the door. I slam it behind him. I fixate on the headlights of his black Accura until the fade away, consumed by the night. I sink to the floor, putting my head in my hands.

I almost forgot that I had promised to meet James tonight. In light of recent events, I don't really feel like going, but I need something to take my mind off of Jay. I scribble a note for my parents. Since I can't tell them where I'm actually going, I write "out with friends" instead.

This place is very different from the police station. It looms over me. The darkness doesn't help the ominous image. It looks like a place for serious criminals. If James is really innocent, why would he be in a place like this?

The inside isn't any better. Convicts are led around, handcuffs restraining them. They look like they deserve to be here, every last one of them. The lady at the front desk seems irritable. Well I would be too, if I had to work here.

"I'm here to see James Nua," I step up to the desk.

"Visiting hours are over," she doesn't look up from her computer.

"Please, it's important," I need to speak to him.

"Oh, well since you said please," she sarcastically remarks. I show her my ID, proving that I work (indirectly) for the FBI. She takes a long look at it.

"Cell 105. You got five minutes," she reluctantly points a finger down the hall. Five minutes is all I need.

"I only have five minutes. Make it quick," I tell him. James rests in the last cell in the hall by himself. His face immediately brightens when he sees me.

"The person who killed Maria is a woman. She got strange phone calls in the middle of the night and letters on our door. We were going to take the kids and leave... but it was too late. One day, Maria was just gone. I figured that she had tried to get away, so I called her, but her phone rang _inside the walls_. I was going to take our kids to a motel, but they were gone. I left and holed up in a motel until the cops came and took me away. Please, you have to help me," James begs.

"What are their names?" I have never seen anyone so desperate. Tears stream down his hollow face. I need to help him.

"Blake and Ryan," James sobs. I can see the lady from the desk coming to get me.

"I can't promise I'll find them, but I'll try," I attempt to console him.

"Thank you," he chokes. A guard escorts me out, and you'll never guess who I found waiting for me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, but it sounds like more of an accusation.

"Really, keeping secrets doesn't suit you, V," Rafe smirks as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. The rain is coming down in sheets, obscuring my vision.

"Just stay out of it," I warn. I am beginning to wish that I had parked my car closer to the building. The rain has drenched me, chilling me to the bone. I start to walk down the street to my car.

"Now, why would I want to do that?" Rafe follows. The pounding of our feet on the pavement echoes louder than the steady dripping of the raindrops.

"Because it is none of your business," I turn to face him. He seems to know that I am serious. I walk down the street, stomping in puddles. After a block or two, I sit down.

I can't keep Jay out of my mind. It's not fair. My tears mix with the falling rain. I hear footsteps drawing closer to me. Normally, I would pretend that I am fine, but now, I can't care less.

"What's wrong?" Rafe sits beside me. I don't bother sending him away. I know he will stay no matter what.

"Nothing," I try to drop the subject all together. I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't pry.

"Why are you even here?" I break the long silence. The rain has drenched us both.

"Because I knew you were here," his soft blue eyes meet mine. Concern is prominent on his face and in his eyes. I have never seen Rafe express emotion before.

"You really don't have to stay," I tell him, though I secretly hope he doesn't leave.

"I know," Rafe stares out into the rain, deep in thought. He doesn't look like he has any intention of getting up. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I don't want to relive it.

"I am an expert at nothing, and this," Rafe gestures to me, with a shred of humor in his voice," isn't nothing." We both laugh.

"Why do you care?" I still cannot wrap my mind around the fact that someone I barely know is sitting with me in the pouring rain just to ask me what is wrong, and they really care about the answer. Rafe doesn't respond. The steady fall of the rain drowns out all other sound.

"I think we need to go back to Maria's house," I look at Rafe, who is fixated on each raindrop as it splashes on the concrete.

"We didn't find anything," I sense the hint of something behind his soft voice.

"That's because we didn't know what to look for," our eyes meet. That same flicker of adventure returns to Rafe's eyes, along with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Watch Your Mouth

"Are you sure about this?" Rafe whispers, his voice full of uncertainty. I push the door open, revealing the office. I check over my shoulder to ensure that we are alone.

"The key is right there in the drawer," I push him into the empty office. I listen attentively to every step, hoping that they won't venture down this hallway. A door clicks open, making my heart skip a beat. I can hear someone coming this way.

"Someone's coming," I whisper to Rafe. I silently close the door. Rafe frantically shuts the drawer and pulls me into a closet. Mulder and Scully both walk into the room.

"That's really what she said?" Scully's voice is laced with shock and disbelief. Mulder sits in the desk chair, slowly spinning back and forth. He drums a pencil on the desk.

"Yes. I think it has something to do with this case," Mulder picks up a file and thumbs through it, carefully taking in every word. Scully hangs on each word that Mulder says.

"But why would Sara want Violet?" Scully asks. I let that sink in. Rafe shoots me a quizzical look. I shrug in response. Why would Sara want me? What could I possibly have done?

"All Sara said was, 'She knows too much'", Mulder sounds just as clueless as Scully does. What could I know? This makes me think. If this really is connected to the case, then, that makes Sara a suspect.

"Are you going to bring her Violet?" Scully asks. Are they working for Sara Priest? They can't be, can they?

"I don't know," Mulder offers the curt response. My heart pounds in my chest. Rafe rests his hand on my shoulder. I can't believe I trusted them. I told them my deepest secret. They told me that they were on my side, and they have been lying the whole time. I never should have told them anything.

"You can't be serious," Scully scoffs at Mulder, crossing her arms.

"Do you know how much she's paying us?" Mulder questions, his eyebrows raised. He stands up, now towering over Scully.

"It doesn't matter. You're talking about kidnapping this girl, and you're worried about _money?" _Scully accuses him. This makes me feel a little better. At least there is one person who knows how crazy this sounds. Mulder puts a small key in a drawer and locks it. My heart sinks. So much for getting back into Maria's house.

"What are you doing?" Scully notices.

"We can't have those kids sneaking into the victim's house again," Mulder and Scully exit the office, and Rafe and I leave the closet.

"What the hell are they talking about, V?" a worried look crosses Rafe's face.

"I wish I knew," I sigh.

"There's something you need to know," Rafe has gone from looking worried to frightened.

"What?" I tentatively take a step closer to him.

"Sara Priest," Rafe whispers, "is my sister."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Our Days are Numbered

"What does she want with me?" my voice falters, catching in my throat. I am so scared I might cry. What am I "too close" to? Rafe seems just as scared as I am. The events of last night are still prominent in my mind. We sat in silence on that curb for the longest time. I still don't know why he stayed.

"We have to solve this case. What did that guy tell you?" Rafe presses me for every detail, pacing back and forth across the floor. I recount everything I can remember about my visits with James Nua.

"You don't think Sara could've..." I dare to meet Rafe's eyes. Those deep blue eyes are filled to the brim with fear and confusion. He runs his hands through his dark hair.

"I don't know," Rafe shakes his head. He clearly hopes Sara didn't kill anyone, but after overhearing Mulder and Scully's conversation, she is definitely a suspect.

"We've got to get to Maria's house before anyone finds us here," I slide open the top drawer, only to find that the key Mulder locked up really is the key we need. Rafe laughs when he notices my distress.

"You really think I wouldn't have had a copy made?" Rafe scoffs, dangling a key from his fingers.

"Let's just go," I roll my eyes as I walk out of the room.

Her house looks just the same as it did before. Dark clouds cover the sky, blocking out the sun. Raindrops have already begun to fall. I like the rain, but I detest the lingering cold that accompanies it. The way it clings to me sends shivers throughout my body. It reminds me of death. I don't know why. Maybe it's the dreary, rainy funerals depicted on TV and in movies.

Rafe and I make our way into Maria's living room. Silence blankets us as we move through her home. I pull out some latex gloves that I thought I should bring. The snap of the gloves rips the blanket away, only to have it awkwardly thrown back over us. I sift through a pile of mail that had been left on her counter. I thumb through the bills before throwing them back on the counter in frustration.

"What are we supposed to be looking for?" Rafe seems to be reading my mind. He is perched on the staircase, his hands gripping the railing.

"Threatening messages," I follow Rafe up the stairs.

"Are you sure this James guy didn't kill her?" Rafe opens the door to Maria's bedroom. Sunlight floods in through the window, casting shadows all around us. The room looks the same as the last time we were here.

"Yes," I don't bother to elaborate on my response. Rafe picks up a necklace from Maria's nightstand. The clear crystal pendant dangles from his fingertips, sending beams of light bouncing off the walls. Rafe closes his eyes, deep in concentration. His eyes shoot open.

"There should be a cardboard box on the shelf in there," Rafe pushes past me and struts into the closet. He emerges carrying a worn box in his arms. One envelope sticks out amongst all the other junk. I take the crumpled paper out.

_You have lived much too long  
__I have been generous  
__I've given you much longer that you deserve  
__Time's up_

I hand the paper to Rafe. He takes a glance at it and tosses it aside. He digs through the box, tossing miscellaneous objects to the side.

"Got it," Rafe holds four envelopes over his head. He reads each one, inspecting every inch as if the killer's name will magically appear. Rafe casts them aside and rushes out of the room. I pick them up, wondering what could be so unsettling.

Letter one reads: _You don't know me  
__But I know you  
__I can see everything you do  
__You don't know me  
__But, soon, you will_

Letter two reads: _Your days are numbered  
__Don't try to contact anyone  
__It would be futile  
__No one will suspect me  
__I am everywhere, and yet I am nowhere  
__I watch you, then disappear with the wind, hiding in the shadows  
__Enjoy every day  
__For you don't know which one will be your last_

Letter three reads: _I've been crossing off the days  
__One by one  
__The day will soon come  
__When you have none_

Letter four reads: _The anticipation is nearly killing me  
__Not much time left  
__I look forward to meeting you_

I see why Rafe left. If his sister really wrote this, the what is she capable of carrying out? Writing on one of the envelopes catches my eye. Printed in the top left corner is just what I need.

A return address.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Torturous Things

Rafe intently stares at the faded return address, his blue eyes shimmering with a sliver of hope. Outside, thunder booms, and rain splashes against the roof, creating the white noise in the background of our thoughts.

"Do you recognize the address?" I ask.

"No, but it's worth a visit," Rafe says. By the sound of his voice, I can tell that he is hinting at something.

"But..." I sigh, wondering what the catch is.

"We need to tell Mulder," Rafe sets the envelope down and meets my eyes. Usually, I am the one who plays by the rules. Rafe is never the one to insist on asking for permission, even if this time would be more of an I-just-wanted-to-let-you-know kind of call.

"Okay, but after we get to this place. I want to make sure that it will give us some new leads," I set my own terms. Rafe nods, although I think he would have told even if I didn't agree.

We arrive at a large chain-link fence that guards a large warehouse. It looks abandoned, but dark curtains cover all the windows on the third floor. Rafe pulls his hood up, masking his face.

"Why are you doing that?" I scoff.

"There might be cameras," Rafe says in an isn't-it-obvious tone. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as well. The hood provides relief from the raindrops pelting me. We both put on gloves. I throw the backpack I brought for evidence to show Mulder and Scully (when we eventually told them) over the fence. It lands with a thud on the muddy ground.

My feet are covered in mud by the time we get to the building. Rafe and I wipe off our shoes so we don't leave any footprints. The ancient door hangs loosely on its hinges, which are now rusted. I click on my flashlight. The narrow beam reveals that the warehouse is even more decrepit on the inside.

"Where are we going?" Rafe follows behind me. We have been wandering the halls for almost fifteen minutes.

"Third floor," I wave my light around until I find a staircase. The steps groan in protest of Rafe and I climbing them. Each step feel like it will break. All I'm hoping for, is to not leave here in a body bag.

The wooden stair under my feet bends until it snaps under my weight. My arms desperately grope for something to hold on to. My nails dig into the railing, leaving deep scratches in the wood. Rafe grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. The spark of electricity surges through my body. Usually, it bothers me, but this time, I don't mind.

"You okay?" my hands are still clasped in Rafe's. I nod.

"Let's just find this stuff and get out of here," I hurry up the rest of the stairs. When I come to a stop, I realize that my heart is rapidly pounding in my chest. I tell myself that it is because I had nearly fallen to my death.

But it can't more than that. Can it?

"Damn, someone's been busy," Rafe's mouth gapes open at the disturbing scene in front of us.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Everybody's Got a Dark Side

Knives dangle from the ceiling, shimmering in the few rays of sunlight that escape the curtains. Blades of all shapes and sizes hang from fishing wire, giving the illusion that they are floating. One catches my eye. Blood stains the sharp blade. Crimson drops form a dried puddle on the floor. A collage of photos are taped to the wall, each one depicting Maria Robinson.

"Someone was stalking her," Rafe pulls one of the pictures down, examining it closely. My phone rings, nearly giving me a heart attack. I glance at the caller ID. It's Mulder.

"Hello?" I bring the phone to my ear. The opposite wall draws my attention.

"You need to come to the center. We have another victim," Mulder says.

"Let me guess, short black hair, grey eyes, and a neck tattoo," I hold the picture in my hand.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Mulder grows suspicious.

"There's something you might want to see," I give him our address. "Third floor." I notice that a second knife is bloody, but what scares me most of all, is that a piece of fishing line is missing its knife.

Is that knife for me?

"The killer planned two murders?" Rafe asks in shock.

"Maria knew her. I saw her picture in Maria's house," I respond.

"So maybe they're taking out the whole family," Rafe examines the photo.

"Or tying up loose ends," I say.

Am I a loose end?

Mulder and Scully ascend the stairs. Their faces contort in shock when they see the room. Scully comes to talk to me and Rafe while Mulder bags evidence. He takes some pictures and the two knives.

"What happened?" Scully asks in a calm voice. Those two words are enough to make us spill the whole story, from James Nua to getting here. Everything. Scully doesn't ask questions; she just listens to our story, occasionally taking notes.

"And you two think Sara Priest did this?" Scully asks in disbelief.

"It's possible," Rafe has trouble saying those words, even though they are more than likely true. I'm sure he would, though. He is basically accusing his sister of being a murderer.

At the center, Mulder dusts the objects for fingerprints. His face lights up when he finds one. If it matches Sara's, we can prove that she killed two people, or at least stalked them. Copies of the letters were at the warehouse. The killer sent identical ones to the other woman, whom Scully identified and Rachel Thatcher, Maria's cousin.

Because we don't have Sara's fingerprints, he runs them through the system. His face falls when a picture pops up on the screen. He even runs them through again, to make sure there wasn't a mistake.

"I'm sorry, Rafe, but it's Sara," Mulder rests his hand delicately on Rafe's shoulder.

"Are you sure?" tears well up in Rafe's eyes, but he does not cry.

"Yeah," Mulder sighs. "You guys can go; we can wrap things up here." Mulder points to the door with his pen. I walk out with Rafe. I notice a slight movement around the corner.

Gemma stands in front of us with her arms crossed over her chest. She flashes an arrogant smirk in my direction. I can feel the rage surging in my veins. I really want to give her a piece of my mind, but instead, I just walk by.

"Well, hello to you too," Gemma follows us out to the parking lot. I am almost to my car when she says something that changes the whole situation.

"Your boyfriend's a good kisser," Gemma is trying to get a rise out of me. It worked. I spin around and punch her right in the face. Before I can react, or even indulge my satisfaction, Gemma's perfectly manicured nails slash into my face, sending blood dripping down my cheek. I can feel the sting.

Another punch lands right on the end of Gemma's nose, sending her staggering back. My ring just catches her upper lip. Gemma's arm jerks forward. The blow would have been painful, if it had landed. Gemma now struggles to free her fist from Rafe's hand. For the second time today, Rafe has saved me. I of course feel gratitude, but something deeper than gratitude rest inside me.

I now have a clear look at the effects of our brawl. A dark circle is beginning to encompass Gemma's left eye, and her lip is bloody. I can tell from the angle her nose is pointing that it is broken. I'm sure I don't look much better. The rain washes the blood away. The cool drops take the sting away, but not completely.

"Don't touch her," Rafe snarls, letting go of Gemma's hand. Gemma recoils at his harsh tone.

Rafe opens the passenger door to my car. He slides in the driver's side.

"You okay?" his blue gaze glances over to me.

"Yeah," I inspect my injury in the mirror. A deep gash runs along my face. "Thanks."

"My boyfriend cheated on me with Gemma, in case you were wondering," I wipe the blood off my face.

"Is that what happened at the prison?" Rafe cautiously steps into the conversation I was hoping to avoid. I nod.

We pull into my driveway. My dad is on a business trip in Vermont, and he won't be back for a week or so. My mom is visiting her old friends for a girls' night, more of a week long girls' night. I have the house to myself. I hope the cut will heal by the time my parents get back, or at least be able to be concealed under makeup.

"You want me to stay?" Rafe's gentle blue eyes gaze into mine. He seems genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine, really," I close my front door. I kind of want him to stay, but I need time to figure out what this deeper feeling might be.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Drowning in a River of Denial

I wish I could have stayed. I have been denying it for some time now, but I can't avoid it any longer. I am in love with Violet Ambrose.

This may sound selfish, but I am sort of happy that things between Violet and Jay didn't work out, but I still don't understand how Jay could do that to her. No matter how hard I try, I can't figure it out.

But what's worse than all of this, is that my own sister is a murderer. I just saw her a month ago. She didn't seem like a killer, but was she planning this then? Maybe I should confront her. I have just decided to call her when my phone rings in my hand.

"I need you to come to the center; something's happened," Mulder's voice echoes in my ear before I have the chance to say hello. His voice is laced with worry and distress.

"What happened?" I have one arm pulling on my leather jacket and holding the phone to my ear, while the other is jamming the keys into the ignition of my motorcycle. I am beginning to grow worried.

"Violet's gone," Mulder's voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"What did you do?" I snarl into the phone, remembering the conversation about kidnapping Violet.

"Nothing," Mulder says, a little too defensively.

"Really?" I scoff, "because the way I heard it, you were more than willing to hand her over to Sara yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" Mulder says, his voice returning to its normal volume.

"I heard all about your little deal you made with my sister," I snap. "Just out of curiosity, how much did Sara offer to pay you?"

The line goes quiet. "Well, was it worth it?" I yell.

"I don't know how you found out, but I swear I didn't touch Violet," Mulder seems honest.

Stay quiet and record the call, I'm going to call Sara," I order, not waiting for a response. I pull over to the side of a winding road. I dial Sara's number.

"Hello," Sara answers the phone.

"Hey Sara," I try to keep my voice sounding as calm as possible, without sounding forced.

"What do you want?" Sara doesn't sound suspicious. In fact, she sounds happy to hear from me.

"I was just wondering if I could drop by so we could catch up," I can't afford to have her think that I know something about the murders... or about Violet.

"Sure, that sounds nice," Sara sounds perky. In the background, I hear the faintest shred of a voice. It might be just a whimper, or it might be saying "help". Either way, I just know it is Violet. She is definitely there, and I have every intention of making sure Violet is not added to Sara's list of victims.

"Did you hear that?" I eagerly ask Mulder after hanging up with Sara.

"Hear what?" Mulder asks. I know the sound was there. I am not imagining it.

"Enhance the call and listen to the sound in the background," I pull up to Sara's house.

"Come to Sara's house, but don't get to close. And don't come in till I tell you. I'll keep you on the phone so you can hear," I pull into the driveway.

"Rafe, that's not a good idea," Mulder responds.

"I'm already here. Just trust me on this," I slip the phone into my jacket pocket. Sara opens the door just as I raise my arm to knock.

"Hey," Sara greets me, waiting for me to come inside. I step into her living room.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom. I'll be right back," I hurry down the hall. The door to her basement sits in front of me, locked. How typical, the kidnapper keeps Violet in the basement. I pull out two bobby pins that I took from Sara's bathroom. I have practiced my lock picking, and I open the door in thirty seconds.

I creep down the stairs, only to find Violet lying motionless on the dirty basement floor.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: This was no Accident

I can't move. All feeling in my body has vanished. I know I am moving. I can sense the motion around me, but I am not in control of myself. All the sound is blocked out. I feel Sara's firm grip on my upper arms. She struggles to drag me.

Suddenly, all of the feeling in my body returns to me, as if someone flipped a switch. I plant my feet firmly on the ground, slowing my descent on the stairs. I jerk my arms out of Sara's grasp, almost losing my balance on the stairs. I struggle against the binding on my wrists, causing the restraints to dig into my flesh.

I turn to face Sara. The music radiates off her, clouding my focus. I see a new imprint, most likely belonging to Rachel Thatcher. Sara's eyes are gone, replaced by bloody voids. The blood runs off her face in the form of tears, disappearing before they reach the floor. Sara extends her arms and shoves me. I lose my footing and tumble down the staircase, landing in a heap on the floor.

I can feel the blood dripping down my arm. A deep red puddle forms on the floor, mixing with the dirt floor of her basement. The deep gash stings, sending tears to my eyes.

My head is spinning. I use my feet to scoot across the floor. Sara menacingly saunters up to me, a broad grin plastered on her face. One arm reaches into her jacket pocket. She pulls out a syringe. Sara bends down, her face just inches from mine. She sticks the needle in my forearm. The drugs burn as they are injected into my bloodstream. Everything goes blurry, and then it fades away into blackness.

I awake to find Rafe shaking my shoulders. The hint of a smile is etched on his face when he notices my awakening. Before he can untie me, the door bursts open, and Sara Priest walks into the room.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Sara's glare bores into us. A rope hangs loosely from her fingers. Before Rafe can react, Sara binds his hands. Unlike me, Rafe's hands are in front of him.

"Won't be needing this anymore," Sara pulls Rafe's phone out of his pocket. She holds it close to her rose colored lips. The music nearly overpowers my senses. Delicate red tears pour from her eyes.

"Rafe's gonna have to call you back. He's a little tied up right now," Sara whispers into the phone.

"We're in the basement!" Rafe yells. Sara ends the call.

"Do you have a death wish?" Sara's hand closes around Rafe's throat. Her eyes meet his. Rafe doesn't respond. Sara releases him and walks up the stairs, locking the door behind her. Someone knocks on Sara's door. Rafe's grim expression gains a glimmer of hope.

"I told Mulder to follow me here," Rafe searches his jacket. It takes a while for his bound hands to find what he is searching for. He pulls out a sharp knife. He crawls over to me and slashes the rope that ties my hands.

I reach for the blade. I saw off the bonds on Rafe's outstretched hands. The rope falls to the floor. Rafe wraps me in a warm embrace. I had lost all hope. I didn't think anyone would save me.

"Thanks," I lean my head against his shoulder. We stand there for what seems like an eternity.

"Do you always carry a knife?" I look into his eyes. They sparkle in the low light of the basement.

"V, really? It's me," Rafe laughs. What he does next completely changes everything.

Forever.

**Thanks for reading! If you like this, you should check out my other stories. They are ****_Playing With Fire _****and ****_The Bottom of the Well_****. Please review or PM me with comments and/or suggestions!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Only For You

Rafe presses his lips on mine, but what shocks me most, is coming to the realization that I am kissing him back. Electricity courses through my body. I wrap my arms around him. My fingertips entwine at the top of his neck. I feel his soft, black hair under my fingertips.

"I love you," Rafe's fingers brush the side of my cheek. His deep blue gaze finds my emerald eyes.

"I love you too," a smile crosses my lips.

Rafe picks the lock and silently opens the door. We tiptoe up the stairs. Rafe reaches into a pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulls out a gun. It looks old. The silver barrel reflects the dim light. Rafe grips the ivory handle in his left hand, his finger poised on the trigger.

Sara has both Mulder and Scully cornered in the living room, and she is wielding a knife, the knife that was missing, the knife that is for me. Sara's back is to us. She doesn't see us. Scully's eyes briefly flash in my direction. In those eyes, I see fear... and hope. She knows we're here. I hold my finger to my lips, signaling her to be quiet.

Their guns have been confiscated. They rest on the brown leather couch behind Sara. Mulder directs a pleading look at me. I can see in his dark eyes that he is begging us to do something. I slowly creep over to the weapons. My movements are lithe and stealthy. I now hold one of the guns in my right hand, although I'm not sure I could really shoot someone if it came down to that.

Sara takes long strides toward the Mulder and Scully. Their backs are pressed against the wall, just like caged animals. I sneak into the adjoining room. I look out the window. A man in a dark overcoat waits across the street. His eyes stare through me. They are almost glowing. Then, he disappears. He doesn't walk away, he is just _gone_. I must be seeing things.

"I would think real hard about my next move, if I were you," Rafe calls out to Sara, directing her attention away from our bosses. Sara's cold, unforgiving eyes turn to face him. She smirks at the sight of Rafe.

"Do you really think you can win?" Sara lets out a maniacal laugh. Sara jabs the blade in Mulder and Scully's direction. "These two have been plotting your downfall from day one. They work for me."

"You're lying," Rafe's voice remains steady, although it is clear that his resolve has been shaken. Sara walks toward Rafe, smiling. She stops inches away, the tip of her knife just inches from piercing Rafe's exposed throat.

"Do I look like I'm lying?" Sara snarls, resting the blade on Rafe's neck. The knife could rip open his flesh at any moment.

"If you don't let me go, I swear to God I'll put one in your liver. You will die slowly and painfully." Rafe presses the gun into Sara's abdomen, his finger hovering over the trigger.

He wouldn't kill his own sister. At least, I hope he wouldn't.

A gunshot rips through the silence, and Sara Priest falls to the ground.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: The Walls Line the Bullet Holes

The bullet hits Sara's hand, and she falls to the floor, the knife skittering across the room. I am ecstatic that my bullet didn't hit Rafe. I can't believe I could aim well enough with my hands shaking so much. Blood pools on the floor.

"Forgot about me, didn't ya?" I point the gun at Sara. The music comes off of her in waves, making it hard to concentrate. The blood drips from her eyes and disappears before it can join the puddle on the floor.

She raises her head to face me. Her cold, remorseless stare bores into the innermost depths of my being. The temporary distraction provides Mulder with the prefect opportunity to cuff her.

"Sara Priest, you're under arrest for the murders of Maria Robinson and Rachel Thatcher, the attempted murder of Rafe Priest, and the kidnapping of Violet Ambrose," Mulder snaps the cuffs on Sara's wrists. "But don't worry. That only adds up to a life sentence or two."

Sara is led into the back of a police car. I hand the guns to Scully. She looks at me with gratitude. I don't know if the fact that I saved three lives, possibly more, has sunk in yet.

"Ah, the prodigal son has returned," Gemma sarcastically tells us, applauding slowly as we return to the center to fill out some of the legal papers. Gemma, Krystal, and Sam are sitting around the table, waiting for us.

"Shut up Gemma, unless you want both your eyes to match," Krystal snaps from across the table. Gemma's eyes is still surrounded by a dark ring. I'm sure the scratch on my face doesn't look much better.

"Next time, invite me," Krystal walks over to me, twirling a lock of green hair around her finger.

"I will," I smile at her.

I know that my life is not normal. I know that it never will be, but normal people don't break into people's houses, solve murders, or go on crazy adventures. Normal is boring.

**Thanks for reading. I hope you liked the story. The sequel, ****_Find Your Own Way Back Home, _****will be out soon. Be sure to check it out! It will be a crossover between ****_The Body Finder_**** series and ****_Castle_****.**


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